Make a Wish
by Hikaruu Dark
Summary: Timmy's lost. It starts with A.J. going to the hospital and soon everything falls a part. Chester's been keeping secrets, things are rough and even magic doesn't help.  characters including Chester, A.J. and Timmy. Set about 5-6 years in the future.
1. Prologue

Timmy knew something wasn't right the moment he woke up. The room wasn't alive with activity the way it normally was. Cosmo wasn't singing, Wanda wasn't yelling- it even seemed like Poof had gone silent. When he finally sat up and looked over at his nightstand, they were there, wide awake save for Poof who was still sleeping. They smiled at him, but it was a strange smile. It lacked the warmth their greetings usually carried and gave him a feeling he could only describe as foreboding, and it went on with him even when he went downstairs for breakfast.  
>Both his mother and father were already at the table, everything spread out and waiting for him. Neither one of them had any food in front of them. Not even so much as a soiled napkin or dirtied dish served as proof that they'd eaten. He approached the table where his father sat sipping at a cup of cool, steamless coffee while his mother remained poised in place exchanging looks with her hands and the floor.<p>

"Morning, Timmy." His father said first.

He pulled his chair out wearily, noticing the absence of the paper that usually stood between them when they spoke at breakfast.  
>"Good morning, Dad. Morning, Mom?" He said, watching her closely.<p>

She smiled dryly, straightening up in her chair.  
>"Good morning, son." She swallowed. "Are you hungry?"<p>

"Yeah, I uh, I guess so." He answered.  
>Without any other hints, Timmy reached forward awkwardly to pull his plate closer. Eggs and bacon, now he knew something was up. His mother hadn't been a fan of making bacon since he was in middle school and she'd taken a liking to waking up a full hour later to get him up and to the bus.<br>"Is something wrong?" He asked carefully.

Mr. and Mrs. Turner looked at each other before turning back to Timmy. His mother leaned in so that she was close enough to touch his arm while his father gave him a slow nod.  
>Whatever this was, he couldn't imagine it being too easy to have to say if this was the way they set up. He grew panicked inside, going through a mental list of things that could have them so worked up.<p>

"It's…" His father's jaw tightened a way he'd never seen before. "It's… a friend of yours, son."

Timmy's heart skipped a beat.  
>"Which… which one?"<br>His brows furrowed as he thought about it. '_…Sanjay? Elmer? Chester?_'

"A.J." His mother said softly, patting his arm again.

He looked at them both, not following. '_A.J.? What could possibly be wrong with A.J.?_'  
>"Did he do something wrong?"<p>

His father smiled, sympathetically. "No, of course not."

"Then what's-"

"He's, er, sick, Timmy."

"Sick?"

"Yes, A.J.'s parents called this morning." His mom piped again.  
>Her face looked tired, as if <em>this morning<em> meant long before sunrise.  
>"He came back from the hospital last night." She began. "He'd been going for a few weeks now… running tests."<p>

Timmy was confused again. "Tests?"

"Yes. You see, A.J. hadn't been feeling too well and no one seemed to be too sure why."

"Do they…" He gulped, looking elsewhere. "Do they know why now?"  
>His heart sank when they looked at each other again.<br>"Please, tell me."

"Son…" His father said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

It was the most hollow feeling Timmy ever experienced. Looking at his father, seeing the pain in his eyes. He didn't doubt for a moment that it must have burdened him to know it as much as it hurt to say it. A.J. had been in their home for years, he and Chester weren't just Timmy's friends, they were family.

"A.J. has Chronic lymphocytic leukemia." He said, taking a deep sigh. "The doctors have doubled and checked and are going over the results again but, well his parents think the diagnosis is right."

Timmy all but fainted. He remained in his chair, staring at his father, waiting for something else to be said. Something about treatment or an unlikely but still very possible cure. Something, anything but what he'd just heard. And when it was clear that he'd heard it all, he bowed his head and let himself go.

Mrs. Turner wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her so that she could hold him properly.  
>"Oh, Timmy." She cooed, patting his back. Her own tears mixed with his as she urged him to take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Timmy. I'm so sorry."<p>

Wanda was speaking with Cosmo when he reentered the room. As she expected, Timmy had approached her with the obvious request.  
>She watched at him as he uttered a quiet, "I wish he was cured."<p>

The two faced each other intently for a moment, scanning the other for any sign of faltering. When it was apparent that neither of them would give in, Wanda neared him, frown deepening.  
>"You know the rules, Timmy."<p>

"Screw the rules." He croaked, eyes still moist. "There's got to be a way."  
>He'd never wanted a wish so badly, never needed something so urgently that he'd challenged her directly.<br>"We have to try."

Wanda sighed, the stress of the news wearing even on her mind. A.J. wasn't her godchild, but he was more than another face she saw among the crowd. He meant something to Timmy, and she had to admit that over the years he'd come to mean something to her as well.  
>"We do." She agreed. "We'll see what Jorgen says."<p>

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><p><strong>Timmy sees A.J. in the next chapter, coming soon so keep checking! Thanks for reading!<strong>

***I've read a much about the various forms of Leukemia for this story, and I must say that my heart goes out to anyone going through treatment or coping with the complications it brights. And also to those who are standing by loved ones who suffer from it. They need you and your support, and don't ever think for a second that you aren't helping them. What they need goes far beyond the call of just medication, they need you to be there for them and I promise you they appreciate your care.**


	2. Visiting

It'd been a long morning, mainly for Timmy.  
>Jorgen and Wanda could go on and on about it for hours, as Timmy knew well. He'd seen them before, day in and night come going over every point of a given issue. Sometimes he wondered why she never took a job working for Fairy World instead of Godparenting, she was so good at paper work and protocol it seemed almost silly to waste her time tending to human children. But every so often she'd direct her attention to Cosmo and Poof or in his own direction, giving them each little tasks to complete to keep them busy. Or to at least keep them from focusing too hard on the conversation.<p>

"Nothing is _different_ about him, Wanda."

"I know."

"If it were Timmy, we'd have a foot to stand on."

"But he's practically blood. He's the boy's best friend."

"I know."

Timmy understood the problem well. Had this been him, had he been diagnosed with… with that, he'd be whisked off to Fairy World and approved for a cure in a heartbeat. But it wasn't him. It wasn't even a Godchild. It was A.J., the science fair champion of five years who barely believed in true love let alone magic. And even with his connection to Timmy, it would take one hell of a case to bring it to Fairy World.  
>This was beyond awful. A.J. had been his best friend as long as he could remember. He'd been there for Timmy in every way humanly possible. Tutoring, comforting, even playing nurse at times. And no one knew how to nurse a sick body quite like A.J.. On many an occasion, Timmy assured the boy that he'd be alright intending to simply wish himself better, but it was to no avail. A.J. would insist on a 'healthy sleepover', medicating Timmy regularly and with expert care. It was well worth the extended discomfort to see the way it pleased his friend to aid him.<p>

But now A.J. was sick. Now he needed help, now he needed Timmy. He was sick, dying of something everyone thought he'd be the one to cure. Well perhaps not dying yet. The diagnosis had been confirmed but he hadn't started heavily reflecting all of the symptoms. There was still time, still a chance. If he could just wish-

"_Timmy._"

He looked up to meet Wanda's kind but knowing eyes. If he didn't know any better, Timmy would say she needed a cup of coffee- or five.  
>"Yeah?"<p>

She sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder. The way she did when he was having a hard time at school or feeling a little less than pleased with something like his height or not making a sports team. Those things felt silly to him now that he'd had time to really think about them.  
>"How're you feeling, Kiddo?" She asked softly.<p>

The tears started to come back then. He loved Wanda, something he knew but found he couldn't say as often as he used to. Admitting to loving her, or Cosmo and Poof for that matter, would also involve acknowledging the fact that he would one day have to say goodbye to them. And right now, goodbyes were something he wanted as little to do with as possible.  
>"…Not so hot." He croaked.<p>

"Yeah." She nodded. "I've been there."

Timmy opened his mouth to question but quickly closed it. He had no doubt that Wanda had indeed felt a pain like this before in her many years.

She drifted to his other side, straightening his shirt and smoothing out the hair where a familiar pink cap used to rest.  
>"Why don't you go pay him a visit, sweetie?" She suggested.<br>Her eyes took on their previous grief as she glanced back to Jorgen who was now flipping through large books. "This might take a while."

"Go… Go see A.J.?" Timmy stammered.  
>It seemed strange to go see him now. He wasn't just A.J. anymore, he was <em>this<em> A.J., fragile A.J.. He worried for a moment that he'd arrive at the house to see the boy hooked up to an IV in bed, barely able to speak and eating through a tube of some sort.

Wanda, however, clearly guessed the outrageous musings of her Godson as she laughed lightly.  
>"Timmy, He's just been diagnosed. He'll be no different than the last time you saw him."<p>

He hit _disconnect_ when he heard Bucky McBadbat's signature '_Dang it, missed ya_' voicemail message for the twelfth time. Letting the phone fall, he peered back up.  
>"Chester's not answering."<p>

"It's okay, he's probably at the register. We'll wait till tomorrow."

"But-"

"Timmy, it isn't _that_ urgent. I'll still be around in twenty-four hours."

A.J.'s laugh might have sounded genuine to others, but Timmy knew better. His friend was aching on the inside. _Literally_. There were just some things impossible to hide from the people who knew you best.

"Wanna watch _Crash Nebula_? It's on in five minutes."

Hell no, he didn't want to watch _Crash_ freaking _Nebula_ right now. He wanted to talk, to get A.J.'s honest opinion about the whole thing. He wanted to spend as much time as he could just the two of them, and eventually three when Chester finally got out of work for the day. There were 100 other things he currently wanted but decided against voicing.  
>"Sure."<p>

They lounged on the bed, chins propped against palms in a mirrored position, facing the TV.  
>But while A.J. focused on Crash and his latest adventure, Timmy was fixed on his best friend.<br>A.J. looked about the same as he always had. The shaved hair, relaxed posture, and a smile even when no one was speaking. Those pleasantries, however, only served to make the other things he noticed, painful. A.J.'s skin wasn't the same shade it normally was. There was a kind of gray to him, if it'd been someone like himself he'd almost say they were blanched. And his eyes while still bright, were cradled by a deep shadow of bag that he'd never seen on a day after the latest of all-nighters his friend pulled.  
>"Are you tired, A.J.?"<p>

"No, not really." The other didn't miss a beat, highly aware of Timmy's staring.

"Um, hungry?"

"Broccoli and steak for lunch an hour ago, but if you're hungry…"

"No, I'm good."

A.J. sighed, raising the remote to turn the show down.  
>"I'm not at the worst of it yet, Timmy. Compared to other kids at this stage, I look good."<p>

"Yeah, I know." Timmy whispered.

"I know you do, but I also know you're freaked out. And I just want you to know you don't need to freak out."

And that's when it hit Timmy, when he'd felt truly hopeless for the first time since before Cosmo and Wanda had entered his life. The familiar sting of helplessness crept over him and he didn't know what to say. He'd been able to wish it to the back his head for the past five years thanks to magic and he'd nearly forgotten how deeply it rattled him. It was every kind of terrible, the kind of pain you wouldn't wish on someone even if you hated them.  
>Timmy nodded and drew closer, ignoring the invisible lines of space they normally respected between each other. He prayed a word of thanks internally when A.J. didn't pull away.<p>

Instead they stayed together, Timmy's head pressed to A.J.'s shoulder as the boy turned the television back up.


	3. Discovery

**I'm usually not a fan of making notes before the chapter because I prefer to let the piece speak for itself, but I just wanted you as the reader to know that this isn't a slash fic, was never a slash fic, and will not become a slash fic. Any LGBT (lesbian, gay, Bisexual, Transgender) characters are simply that way for diversity and what I personally think is possible for them. I promise this won't turn into an insane crack pairing carnival.**

**Thank you for reading and please, proceed.**

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><p>Timmy couldn't have pedaled faster if he tried. The wheels of his bike strained against the pavement as he tore through the same portion of road for the third time. He'd left Aj's house only moments ago and decided to go home and wait for Jorgan's final decision. Although he felt he knew what it would be.<br>He biked through most of Dimmsdale's commercial area, taking the long way home.  
>Chester was still working and Timmy didn't bother going in to visit. He couldn't imagine of walking up to his register with that kind of news when the guy would have another four hours or so of work to get through.<br>He'd stopped to chat with Sanjay and Elmer for a while, but they hurried off once the conversation was clearly going nowhere. Timmy tried apologizing, but even that came out deflated. He was bad at dealing with grief. After all, he'd never had anyone die on him before.  
>His stomach lurched at that thought. He needed a distraction.<br>'Something, anything.'  
>At this point he'd even welcome something he hated. Anything to get the thought of A.j.'s sick body wrapped up in bed.<p>

Like… _Francis_.

_Ugh_, Francis. That was true hate. The monster with dark hair and an even darker inner pit that seemed to back the color of his eyes had been the bane of Timmy's existence for the better half of his life. Present at every turn, taunting, punching, crushing. If there'd been a Hell on earth, Timmy would have to say that it wandered, rearing up in Francis' presence.  
>It died down a bit, however, when they'd gotten to junior high. Their principal was far less tolerant of the boy's behavior, coming down harder on him for each of his transgressions against Timmy- or any other student for that matter. A nice change from the indifference, or better yet, <em>incompetence<em> of his former principal. Still, every now and again he'd bump into the guy. Usually when heading home after school or being out on the block a little too late post sunset. And despite not seeing him quite as often as he once did, Francis hadn't lost his touch.  
>It started happening less, weekly instead of daily, then from weekly to almost monthly. Maybe that was the reason he'd gotten a little better at hiding in sixth grade, why he'd been able to run a little faster from Francis in seventh, and why his enemy appeared almost disinterested in fighting when they entered eighth. Eventually, Timmy found himself able to walk home rather than jog, and was pleasantly surprised to make it all the way without altercation. Still, he knew better than to be completely trusting of the situation and started riding his bike around town more often.<br>Francis' touch was certainly something not lost.

'_BEEP BEEP!_'  
>The noise sounded more like a harsh thunder than the docile chime it had been. Timmy tilted his head knowingly to his wrist to see the pink flashing light. They'd come to a decision and, much to his dismay, he'd have to head back and accept it no matter how hard it would be to bare.<br>'_Just past the market and…_' He slowed, without thinking, crawling to a stop.

In the opening of a small alley between the grocery store and a boarding house, he could clearly see Francis. At first, he thought himself foolish to waste time looking but then he looked closer, spying what so sternly had the boy's attention.  
>Locked between two lips and a pair of scrawny arms, green flannel faded with years of wear, and teeth that'd only been free of metal braces for two months prior- Francis' <em>touch <em>was at full force, and from what Timmy could see, better than ever.

"Ch… Chester?" His voice was weak, mouth totally dry.  
>Timmy sat up on the seat of his bike, willing his feet to move but not finding the strength to.<p>

The boy pulled back, shaking a lock of blond hair from his eye. He froze as he realized who'd called his name.  
>"Timmy?" He questioned, already knowing the answer.<p>

Timmy watched him slip away from a very irritated Francis, straightening the dingy shirt back over his shoulders, careful to readjust the name tag pinned to the pocket, and clamping both hands down on his arms. The look on his face was a mix of horror and utter embarrassment.  
>"I uh, I'm on break." He jerked his chin in the store's direction, trying to put on a smile. "You're a life saver. Ten more minutes and I'd be late."<br>Unfortunately, the joke fell on rather deaf ears.

"Chester," The shock was melting and understanding was quickly taking its place. Chester had done this before. He could see the guilt plastered on those freckled cheeks. This wasn't an accident or first offense, it was… _planned_. His surprise and what he now recognized had been worry was slowly percolating into anger.  
>"What the Hell?"<p>

"Timmy, wait-"

"_Wait_?" He growled, stepping off of his bike and giving the boy a sudden shove. He hadn't thought of it, hadn't even noticed he'd motioned to put the bike's kickstand down. "You want me to wait?" His blood felt hot under his skin and he soon found himself chest to chest with the other boy. Everything he'd been through today coursed through him. A.j.'s news, his helplessness, it was too much to stifle. He was angry now, more so than he'd ever been. He was so close to losing one friend and now it seemed he'd be letting go of another.

"Dude, stop it." Chester sighed, taking one of Timmy's wrists in attempt to calm him, taken aback by the punch that nearly reached his jaw in response. "Dude!" And then came yet another swipe, this time by his eye. If he wasn't careful, Timmy was actually going to land a hit. And that frightened him.  
>The two, like any other boys, had fought before but not like this. What at one time was a bloody nose between friends seemed more along the lines of murder at the moment.<br>"Are you serious?"

"Are _you_?" Timmy spat, taking one more swing before his other wrist was trapped in Chester's larger hand. He shook his arms wildly, desperate to break the hold and get a grip of his friend's now quivering throat. He mustered another shove that made the lanky boy's frame ripple once before he steadied. "You and Francis?"

Chester's eyes softened then. "Yeah?" The rising hurt he felt was evident in his tone.  
>He let one of Timmy's hands fall before raising an arm to still the other boy who had now come over to the scuffle. "What about it?" His voice cracked.<p>

No response came from the shorter, save for another swing that nearly had Francis lunge his way.

"You got a problem with that, Turner?" As always he spoke with a little too much gravel.

Timmy's eyes shifted from Chester's ever moistening pair to Francis.  
>"It's disgusting." He said flatly. "I hate you."<p>

The other winced.  
>"C'mon man, you don't mean that."<p>

"I do, Chester. And you know that." His focus was back on Chester now, eyes narrowed as he ripped his other hand back to his own chest. "You've always known that. _You_ used to hate him too."

"Things change, man."

Timmy clenched his jaw, tooth grinding on tooth. He'd had enough of that word, that excuse. Change was becoming the reason for everything wrong lately. Change was sneaking up on him over and over again, kicking his ass when it was close enough.  
>"When, Chester?" He barked. "When did things change? When did <em>you<em> change? When did you start hiding behind dumpsters with the guy that used to beat the crap out of you, huh?" He gasped, panting from the volume he'd taken on. "When did you start lying to me?"

Chester tucked his tongue under itself, obviously hesitant to answer. He buttoned his wobbling lip in refusal to the tears that threatened to fall.  
>"Can we not do this… here?" He murmured, taking notice to the few customers that had stopped to watch the argument.<p>

"What?"  
>Timmy looked around them, seeing the same crowd. His stance wilted as if he'd come back to himself. The surge of adrenalin had finally run out and now we was just the kid-in-the-pink-hat being noisy with the-kid-from-the-trailer-park. His cheeks tinted a dull red as he recognized a few faces as neighbors and people who definitely knew his parents.<br>"Fine then." He murmured.

"I-I'll call you."

"You sure you know the number?" He quipped before heading back to his bike. "Or did you lie about having a phone too?"

Chester sneered. "I'll call you, Timmy."

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><p>Wanda and Jorgen have come to a form of decision while Timmy and Chester had their own troubles. Next chapter soon to come!<p> 


End file.
